Quiet Explosion
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *RussiaVietnam* request-fic for taure. During the Vietnam War, Vietnam decides to ask for the Soviet Union intervention...


**SOY:** another requested short fic. Russia with Vietnam. Since Vietnam has only appeared as a sketch, I took some liberties, such as giving her a human name, and characterization. Please do enjoy…

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**Rating**: R for war.

**Warnings:** Nothing, really.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia. I can write hetero.

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**Quiet Explosion**

**One–shot**

The office was quiet in the mid-afternoon, the only sound the scribbling of a pen on paper, its scratching stopping every now and then to shift more papers to the side and grab others.

The huge oak desk, whose earthy and warm colour lacked strength in the grey light from the outside, was filled with paperwork; there was just one thing that seemed to brighten up the room, and it was a vase of yellow sunflowers, kept alive and healthy by caring hands.

His back to the giant windowpane, feeling the lack of sun warmth on his back, Russia kept his attention focused on his papers, not wanting to stop and look up, because he knew that if he were to do that, his attention would waver instantly, and he would not work; and then, he would get behind with his paperwork, and he would need to hand it all to Lithuania again.

And he didn't like it when Lithuania had too much work to do –then he had less time to spend at his side. Russia wanted certain things to keep the same no matter what.

So, his eyes moved only from folder to folder, mechanically turning a page when he finished reading one report, fingers caressing the pages, feeling their consistency. There was only a bit more to do, he kept reminding himself. Just a bit more to do, then he would be free.

A soft tapping interrupted his work, and Russia felt his own hand clench around his pen.

He didn't like being interrupted.

"Who is it?" he called out, his lips forming a thin, disapproving line. He had taught his Nations better than to come and disturb him during his paperwork time. Lithuania knew better, too, than to allow someone in.

The door creaked open, and a lithe, female figure shifted inside, holding a huge paddle in her hands. At the sight, Russia's serious demeanour melted all at once, forming a small, pleased smile that many fellow Nations had learned to fear.

"Vietnam" he chirped.

Since last time he had seen her, she looked older. Her hair was still the same, a long, beautiful cascade of ebony bangs, held together in a low ponytail, with a small flowery string to tie it up, and her big, chocolate coloured eyes, so open and friendly…

"Hello, Ivan~" she smiled at him, her young, bright voice bringing something to the office that no one visiting, except her, managed to bring. "It has been a while… did you miss me?"

He nodded, his smile turning a bit wider. "Of course, Thanh, I always miss you!"

She was just as her human name described her, bright, sunny, ear pleasing and delicate, and yet strong.

It was always a pleasure to see her frame move in his house, bringing some colour, bringing in life and cheerfulness whereas no one else, apart Russia himself, used to smile. Where he lived, there was only cold, and snow and grey and…

"Ah, those sunflowers are so beautiful…" she skipped to his desk, brushing delicate fingers on the yellow flowers, still under his searching gaze, then she hopped on the desk, unmindful of the paperwork he still had to check, and wiggled her feet.

Russia moved backwards, still smiling happily, and allowed her this close.

"What brings you here, Vietnam? You here to be finally one with me, _da_?"

Her laugh warmed something inside him that made his smile turn just the lightest bit shady.

"I'm sorry, not this time" she replied, winking affectionately at him. One of her hands found its way to his scarf, that he wore even inside his house, and pulled on it gently, pushing the paddle she never let go of to the side.

"Oh, that's too bad" his smile held a slightly sad tinge, then it settled back to its normal intensity, shrugging it off. "Next time maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe next time" she agreed, taking off her bamboo hat.

Russia's smile turned feral, but she took no interest in that, chatting a bit whilst he resumed his paperwork.

………………………………

Russia's scratching of pen against paper was interrupted by the soft click of the door cracking open, the darkness of the room receding thanks to the light coming from the corridor.

It was only then Russia realised the room had fallen prey of the shadows of the incoming night, and that another day had passed by, one and the same, unchanged.

"Ivan…"

Once again, Russia was pleasantly surprised by Vietnam's popping up in his office, uninvited and unexpected, but still very much welcome. The way she moved through his house, passing unnoticed by Lithuania's usually attentive gaze, was enough to give her a few more good points in his book, especially since afterwards, he could still punish Toris…

Thanh smiled warily, her attention turning to the few changes in the office around her, hesitating slightly before taking her usual place on the Nation's desk, removing her hat and pressing it against her chest.

Russia smiled, leaning forwards to lit the lamp at his right, because it was late and the sky behind him, outside, was already dark, and cold, and the wind blew against the closed windowpane and it reminded him of chilled nights spent walking through the snow, breathing coming in puffy clouds.

His hands trembled slightly, but his expression did not change.

The light eerily flashed around them, casting shadows away, and Vietnam leaned forwards, brushing her fingers against his forehead.

It was then that Russia noticed a few details that had escaped his attention at first; there was a bandage on Vietnam's left hand, surrounding her fingers and wrist, and there was a smaller bandage around her neck, and her right leg, too.

Suddenly, something akin to rage burned him from the inside.

"Who did this?" he asked, voice still apathetic in tone.

"It is the reason I am here at this late hour, Ivan" Thanh shifted on the desk, big, bright eyes meeting the narrowed ones of the Russian Nation. For how sweet she could look she was fierce and always got to the point. "I'm here to ask for help".

Had it been anyone else, Russia would have been less intent in aiding them. Russia never had anyone to help _him_, in the past, and everything he needed was fought hard for, battled for; nothing ever gave Russia anything, especially not easily.

But this was Vietnam –the only Nation who truly was not scared by him. Who could be herself in his presence, no matter what he did.

She wasn't afraid to touch him, she wasn't afraid to smile or contradict him.

"I'm being attacked, and it's hurting me" her eyes, moments before filled with warmth and light, turned sober, almost dulled in pain. She held one hand over her chest, and stared at Russia, almost pleadingly. "I wouldn't come here to ask if it wasn't… it's… it's slicing me in half" her fingers let go of the paddle and curled around Ivan's, asking for comfort.

Russia stared down at her hand for a second, then almost hesitating, he curled his bigger, cold hands around her smaller one.

Vietnam closed her eyes, biting her lower lip, and waited. Russia, or what could be called USSR, had failed to help her more than once before this whole problem started, by failing to support her during her long war against France in the early '30s, and even more afterwards, but there was nowhere else she could get real aid.

She had to believe that this time, Russia would not ignore her needs…

"I was aware of your problems, Thanh" his voice, albeit light and cheerful, made Vietnam open her eyes and stare at him, waiting. "I've been… talking with Yao, actually" he continued, lifting his hand, moving away from the desk and turning his back to her.

The problem had escaped his attention, at first… wars that did not include him were not as fun. He didn't search for war, unless it benefited his need to annex others to his control.

Of course, Ivan was always at war, always trying to make everyone be one with him, and China was, at the present time, his most interesting subject. Playing silly but fun mental games with America only amounted to a bit of his life, and he still wanted others to submit, willing or not.

China, so far, was holding up pretty well, and the thought made Russia shift in both disappointment and amusement. They were at a tentative collaboration, or less than this, their trust for each other was lacking, but it wasn't important.

One day, Yao, too, would…

"Of course, of course" he shook himself out of his thoughts, and turned around again, the innocent smile lighting up his face directed at Vietnam. "You will have your help, count on it…"

To see her face brightening up, forgetting about her pain, made Russia feel a bit warmer, and at the same time, vile.

It would be interesting, of course, and he didn't like America to meddle with sweet Vietnam… but of course, she was strong enough to work it out, he'd just aid her a bit. He couldn't go straight at Alfred, of course, he didn't want complete destruction, not even to make America disappear with him.

"разрядка, still…" he murmured, his smile shifting into a cold, vibrant stretch of his lips.

pазрядка, _razryadka_ –their way to fight without fighting… the cold, mental games played from both sides, through diplomacy, and self–building confidence schemes. He could not aid Vietnam without risking a full–out war, and despite everything Russia did not want that.

This struggle of his dear Vietnam would aid him more than he would aid her by providing help, as it was.

He would aid Vietnam through military means, offer bombs and stifles, and guns and all the military service he knew she did not have, as she was so cute, but lacked experience…

And still, he would keep himself out. No need to ruin this new playground, of course. Use this as a substitute, teach dear Alfred another game…

"You're going to be one with me" he stated, breaking Vietnam out of her happiness. "Vietnam ought to be communist like me, _da_?"

Thanh froze, shifting from one foot to the other. She had reached out to Ivan because she knew he was the only one who could help, the only one who opposed Alfred's ways, the one she'd gain as an ally…

She had known he wouldn't let her go without something exchanged between them, and it seemed this time, his question would have a positive answer.

"Yes, Ivan…" she gritted her teeth. It wasn't like she was renouncing to her freedom –being communist would not cause her to fall prey of Russia, no matter how much the older Nation auspicated it.

But war was war, no matter how close the two of them could be.

Russia's smile grew steadily, shadows falling on his face as his shoulders shook, a soft, hollow 'kolkolkol' being uttered, almost an unconscious reaction.

One day, they'd all fall. He just needed to be… patient.

………………………………

"This is an AK–47 assault rifle" Russia's voice was cheerful, as if talking about the weather, perfectly controlled. "To fire, you insert a loaded magazine, like this" quickly, he pushed the magazine in "moving the selector lever to its lowest position, pull back and release the charging handle". There was a soft click. "Do you understand, _da_?"

Russia stood in the middle of the empty, cold field, watching the bare surroundings with dull eyes, the stretched smile on his face as cold as the snow.

Vietnam nodded, frowning and holding the rifle in her hands, shifting it and weighting it slowly, trying to gain confidence with the foreign weapon.

Her clothes were different, dressed in a normal, uncoloured military uniform, stretched around her form, uncomfortable, too tight in contrast to her previous large, baggy and colourful clothes. Her eyes were still bright though, because the will to fight would never fade.

She kind of missed her paddle, but she knew this had to be done. She had to give the example to her troops, have them see her fighting with them for independence; the fact that, not even a decade before, French troops had been controlling them, owning territories, demanding prices, was what helped her Vietnamese people to fight.

They would not allow some Americans to take away what was theirs by right.

Behind her, Russian officers ran by, yelling orders to the few of her children she had brought over with her, to be instructed and taught the arts of war, of flying jets and holding weapons.

"I do, Ivan" she murmured, smiling at him. "Thank you".

Despite everything, despite his shifting moods, despite his attitude, despite everything, her care for him had yet to change. It was the way she was –he still could not scare her. She still thought of herself as close to him.

"In Soviet Union, you shoot like this" he chanted.

It was swift, painless and quick –in the moment it took her to blink, he had lifted his own rifle, aiming it at a target located on the other end of the field, and shot.

The projectile exploded on the head of the practice target, shards of wood exploding and falling on the snow below, black stains on the previously unmarred white.

"Switch it to middle position, hmm?" Ivan continued, gleefully looking at the decapitated target. "Like this, hmm?" another soft click. "And shoot…"

This time, when he held the trigger down, the rifle didn't stop at a single projectile, but shot a burst of bullets, which all hit the target, destroying it in the matter of seconds.

Each of the loud bangs shot through Vietnam's body, unrefined and strong and raw, and she shuddered, watching the devastation caused by the rifle with wide, intent eyes. Russia's smile was wide and sated, as he finally let the trigger go, lowering his rifle.

"Hmm? Beautiful, right?"

Thanh gulped her uneasiness down, motioning for her soldiers to practice and mimic Russia's smooth moves, his ease, his coolness.

As she practiced on her own, the rifle held tightly in her hands, Vietnam couldn't but shift her attention to the side, as far from Russia it could get, where another figure, less imposing and less sure, was standing quietly, black clothes standing strongly against the background.

There he was, China, hat pressed over his head, hiding whatever expression he might have had, supervising the scene whilst he fought hard not to tremble or shift –of fear and cold both, she presumed.

Vietnam understood his emotions too well –they both were not in their natural environment. They both were fighting a similar kind of battle… the only difference was that Yao disliked Ivan, feared him, distrusting of his motives, unable to read in the shattered, twisted mind of the Russian nation, whilst Thanh just knew better.

There was nothing to read, nothing to understand.

Vietnam sighed, smiling warily at Russia, who tugged on his scarf, moving through the field to get closer to China, who winced and straightened up, face hardening and lips muttering a soft 'aru'.

Would it ever end?

The fight, the war, this everything. Would it ever end? Would Vietnam keep free? Would Russia turn his back to her, in the end?

'_It doesn't matter'_ she thought, clenching her beautiful but calloused hands around the rifle, feeling the metal and wood underneath her fingers.

At least she had Russia's aid, his presence, albeit cold, was comforting. Counting on him was always a bet, sometimes a lost one, but still…

Yells of soldiers, of starting engines, jets coming to life, sounds blurring her thoughts away, Thanh pointed her rifle and fired.


End file.
